


When You're At Pride And A Dying Child Appears

by fandomsandshit



Series: Will Solace Before, During And After Percy Jackson's Shit Went Down [1]
Category: Percy Jackson and the Olympians & Related Fandoms - All Media Types
Genre: Apollo Cabin - Freeform, Camp Half-Blood (Percy Jackson), Gen, POV Outsider, Pre-Canon, Pride, Swearing, Will Solace Appreciation
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-09-27
Updated: 2020-09-27
Packaged: 2021-03-08 02:02:39
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,012
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26677903
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/fandomsandshit/pseuds/fandomsandshit
Summary: Spencer just came to Camp Half-Blood for the summer and he's honestly too worried about a dying child right now.
Relationships: Original Character(s) & Original Character(s), Will Solace & Original Character(s)
Series: Will Solace Before, During And After Percy Jackson's Shit Went Down [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1941190
Comments: 2
Kudos: 31





	When You're At Pride And A Dying Child Appears

**Author's Note:**

> Yes, there's a shit ton of OCs, but I don't care. Did I write this because I am deprived of Will Solace content outside of Solangelo? Yes, yes I did.

It was June the eleventh.

Normally, this day was just like any other at Camp Half-Blood, with the exception of multiple colourful Pride celebrations. After all, the Greeks were some of the gayest people ever.

Spencer Miriga, son of Apollo, was sitting underneath a tall oak tree on the edge of the forest, accompanied by Lucia Solano, daughter of Demeter. While he would usually be blasting confetti and glitter with the rest of his siblings, he decided to join Lucia, who he thought looked quite forlorn. They weren’t saying anything, just observing the wild festivities. Spencer let out a small chuckle when he saw one of his ‘disaster siblings’ go flying headfirst into the lake, as the result of a miscalculated, overenthusiastic march.

The day was peaceful, in a mad sort of way.

Or, at least, it was, until Woodrow the satyr came bounding over the camp borders holding… something. Olympus knows what it was, for Spencer had begun boycotting his glasses out of pure spite when someone from Hermes said he didn’t need them, since he could see the lake just fine. Never mind that fact that the lake was a massive, blue body of water, and looked blurry even with glasses on. When he accidentally shoots an arrow at a tree tomorrow, Spencer knows who he will blame.

With a heavy sigh, he stood up, stretching out his arms. He then proceeded to pull Lucia up too, her bony hand giving a death grip on his forearm. Together, they walked over to where a crowd was starting to emerge, eager to see what Woodrow had.

As they got closer, Spencer mused on what it could be. Woodrow was out finding demigods in the south of America, so it could be a monster attack gone horribly wrong. But then again, it did appear multicoloured, so he might have stolen someone’s recycling and booked it. It wouldn’t have been the first time that that had happened.

As the head counsellor for Cabin 7, he could push through the throngs of demigods of all ages, until he reached the front. Spencer’s heart dropped.

He seemed to be carrying a small child, maybe aged six or seven, with a mop of curly blond hair. Or. rather, what should be blond, but was a dark brownish-red as a result of dried blood. They were wearing a bright shirt that reflected a pride flag, but was ripped and torn in places. Their tanned skin was mottled with green and purple bruises.

In short, they looked akin to a corpse.

“Get Chiron!” Taruna Mohan, daughter of Ares and head counsellor of Cabin 5, yelled. Multiple people scrambled to do just that. “Miriga, go get the infirmary ready. Spritz, get Woodrow to the Cloven Elders.”

Spritz (who was actually an unclaimed camper by the name of Jiahao Young, but was nicknamed Spritz after an incident with some nereids) wrapped an arm around Woodrow and guided him towards the woods, whispering reassurances.

Spencer turned and started running towards the infirmary, but was in earshot when Taruna started speaking again.

“Everybody else, GET OUT OF THE FUCKING WAY!”

With that, the demigods parted like the Red Sea, and she started sprinting after Spencer. They burst through the infirmary doors, startling the life out of Amy Dunn (a poet with an affinity for filling out health forms) and Paul Scott, who had concussed himself trying to paint the Hermes cabin.

Taruna raced to place the young demigod on a free cot, and Spencer got out his stethoscope. A quick listen told him that their heartbeat was slightly slower than what it should be,, but not life threateningly slow. He breathed out a sigh of relief.

Dragging a chair closer to the cot’s side, Spencer quickly rubbed his hands before hovering them above their battered body. He began to quietly sing a hymn to Apollo, and his hands let off a soft glow.

He sang for a minute or two, letting his hands drift over the torso, legs and head, skin piecing itself back together and bruises fading faster than they arrived. Once that was done, Spencer fell back into his chair, wiping his brow.

Amy came over and silently gave him a square of ambrosia. He nodded thankfully.

Nibbling on the ambrosia, he then realised that Taruna was still there, standing guard in front of their cot and protecting them from the gaze of the too curious campers.

Taruna was a terrifying force of nature. She had short and choppy black hair, dark skin, and stone-cold brown eyes. Her face almost seemed to be constantly contorted into a snarl, and her muscular figure scared off even the bravest campers. Despite her appearance (and, admittedly, her initial impressions) she was just and fair. She did not stand for assholes of any cabin, and hated everyone equally.

Spencer counted himself lucky that they were acquaintances, otherwise she would have summoned the power of Olympus herself to heal the poor child. So what if she was a child of Ares? Would that stop her? No.

He was pulled out of his thoughts by Chiron busting down the door. Well, it was more like hurriedly pushing it open, but that doesn’t sound nearly as cool.

“What happened?” Chiron asked. Taruna gave him a blank look, as if to say _does it look like we have any fucking clue? We’re not satyrs, and I sure as fuck didn’t gallop around with a DYING CHILD in my arms!_

Or, at least, that’s what Spencer interpreted it to say.

He must have been partially correct, because Chiron suddenly looked sheepish.

“Right, I’ll go ask Woodrow.”

With that, Chiron disappeared as quickly as he came.

“Thanks,” Spencer said, “I don’t think he would have left otherwise.”

Taruna just raised an eyebrow, and said, “Shut up, and make sure the small bastard doesn’t die.”

She marched out of the infirmary, and the door shut on her yelling at some more nosy campers. Spencer gave a small smile, and went about finding some nectar.

_Well, so much for a peaceful summer._

**Author's Note:**

> Me, writing a new fic series for another fandom whilst my other unfinished work stares mournfully into the distance? It's more likely than you think.


End file.
